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TEMPTED: ALTERNATE THREESOME POV
A LOST IN OBLIVION EXTRA
This is an alternate scene from SEDUCED - the prequel to the Lost in Oblivion series. In the original book, this scene was in Nick’s point of view. This is how things went in Jazz’s point of view.
Jazz staredat the closed door of the apartment Nick, Simon and Deacon shared. What was she doing here? She could’ve just called. Instead she’d asked to borrow Gray’s car since hers was on the fritz again and rather than driving to get a salad as she’d planned, she’d ended up at the Fluff ‘n Fold laundromat. Ended up at Nick’s, though she was pissed at him. At herself, for not having any self-control.
For having too much.
She had to be at the waffle house early tomorrow. Coming here wasn’t smart. If she turned around now, she could still get her salad and return Gray’s car. Maybe they’d be able to talk before he went to work—
Yeah, right. Fat chance.
She knocked and eased open the door, then peeked inside to see a bare-chested Nick sprawled on the couch. It was some chest, coiled with muscle and sprinkled with blond hair that led down to the colorful dragon tattoo that scrolled over his torso, but that wasn’t the only reason her heart sped up. The fading bruises on his body somehow matched the way he looked. He’d set his mouth in a hard line and his jaw clenched tight. Frustration poured off of him in waves.
Over her? Over the band? Some from column A, some from column B?
“Hey, you got any—” His features relaxed as soon as his golden brown eyes landed on hers. Drawing his legs up, he tapped the end cushion with his toes. “Oh, hi. Come in. I’ve been calling you all night.”
“I know. I wasn’t ready to talk.” Jazz stepped inside Nick’s spartan living room and tried to keep her feet moving forward even when everything inside her said to turn and run. She edged around the coffee table and sat on the lumpy couch near Nick’s bare feet. Her gaze lingered there for a moment. A guy with bare feet always seemed more vulnerable to her. More exposed. He could have his pants off and it never hit her in quite the same way.
Nick sipped some chunky blue stuff from a bottle with a masking tape label—protein boost. He seemed plenty energetic to her. Certain parts especially.
She searched for something to say. Nothing came.
He set the bottle aside and rubbed his palms on his pajama pants. They looked like they’d been run through the washer on high a few too many times. If they had any more holes, she’d get an eyeful of more than he intended. Or maybe not. Nick obviously had a lot more experience than she did and didn’t mind flashing it around.
Then again, who didn’t have more experience? Nuns and elementary school kids, probably.
“I’m sorry.” His cautious tone made her look at her hands. “I have no defense for what I did.”
“Are you just messing around with me to get at Gray?” she asked, hating that she had to ask.
Thinking that what she’d shared with Nick could just be part of some macho posturing thing made her back crawl. She wasn’t the kind of girl to just get naked with anyone, even if some people believed her clothes and her up-for-anything attitude said otherwise.
“Are you?” he returned, not answering her question.
Answering it unintentionally.
She fought to keep her shoulders from coming up. How could he even think she’d use him? They were just getting to know each other in a very unique situation—bands were like marriages, without the vows—so maybe she needed to spell things out a little more. “No. I don’t have any reason to hurt him or make him jealous. It’s not about that with us. He just gets overprotective—”
“Jazz.” He took her hand and she fought not to yank it back. Whenever people used that slow, careful tone with her, it knocked her right back to her years in foster care when she’d been talked down to so often she might as well have stayed on the pavement. “He told me it was more than that. At least from his side.”
A breath exploded from her lips. Was it from fear? Relief? Excitement? God, all three probably. “What exactly did he say?”
“You have to see how he looks at you,” Nick said, not answering her yet again. Making her think Gray hadn’t really said much of anything at all.
Figured. Another dream crushed. She’d had so many damaged, it was amazing she ever got her hopes up about anything anymore.
In spite of her reluctance to cling to him—to anyone—she wrapped her fingers more tightly around his, taking comfort from his strength. After so many years around Gray, she was pretty sure she could identify a guitarist’s fingers from feel alone. The calluses on their fingerpads, the flexibility of their joints. “What do you see?”
“He wants you. He…he loves you. And not as a brother, not even in any of those places where brother and sister get way too close.”
She laughed, leaning closer to him to see more of his smile. He always hid half of it, turning his face away so you never got the full power all at once. “I still think you’re reading more into it than is there. He’s had all these chances to tell me and he never has. He doesn’t say jack to me. He’s just possessive.”
Nick grunted. “Possessive. Right. If I didn’t basically dislike him on principle for hijacking my band, I’d dislike him more for making me feel guilty over you,” he added, evidently unaware that she’d lost the thread of the conversation in her quest to put together both sides of his mouth. It was a little crooked. She liked that. Flaws were so much more fascinating than perfection.
“I know, I know.” She sighed. “You want to fuck me. We colored in those pictures already.”
